e eyes of my curate began to kindle, and I saw a possible
Bernard or Peter in his fine, clear-cut face, and a "Deus vult" in the
trembling of his lips. Ah me! what a glorious thing is this enthusiasm
of the young,--this noble idealism, that spurns the thought of
consequences, only sees the finger of God beckoning and cares not
whither!

"Hand me down that Virgil," I said, to avert an explosion, for when he
does break out on modern degeneracy he is not pleasant to hear.

"Now spare my old eyes, and read for me, with deliberation, those lines
of the Fourth Eclogue which forecast the coming of our Lord!"

He read in his fine sonorous voice, and he did full justice to the noble
lines:--

"Ultima Cumaei venit jam carminis aetas;
Magnus ab integro saeclorum nascitur ordo.
Jam redit et Virgo, redeunt Saturnia regna;
Jam nova progenies caelo demittitur alto,"--

down to the two lines which I repeated as a prayer:--

"O mihi tam longae maneat pars ultima vitae
Spiritus et, quantum sat erit tua dicere facta."

"No wonder," he said, at length, "that the world of the Middle Ages,
which, by the way, were _the_ ages of enlightenment, should have
regarded Virgil as a magician and even as a saint."

"But," he said, after a pause, "the 'Dream of the Dead Christ' would be
almost more appropriate nowadays. It is terrible to think how men are
drifting away from Him. There's Ormsby now, a calm, professed infidel;
and absolutely nothing in the way to prevent his marriage with Miss
Campion but his faith, or want of faith."

"Ormsby!" I cried. "Infidel! Marriage with Miss Campion!--want of
faith!!! What in the world is this sudden discharge of fireworks and
Catherine-wheels upon your pastor? Or where has all this gunpowder been
hitherto stored?"

"I thought I had told you, sir," he said, timidly, "but I have so many
irons in the fire. You know that Ormsby's marriage is only a question of
weeks but for one thing."

"And, if I am not trespassing too much on the secrecy of your
confidential intercourse with these young people," I said (I suppose I
was a little huffed), "may I ask how long is all this matrimonial
enterprise in progress, and how does Campion regard it?"

"I am afraid you are offended, sir," he said, "and indeed quite
naturally, because I have not spoken about this matter to you before;
but really it appears so hopeless, and I hate speaking of things that
are only conjectural. I suppose you ha